Werewolves in Cheesebridge
by OriginalSharkBiteGal
Summary: When Mr. Pickles becomes a werewolf, Mr. Trout and Ms. Pepper have to find a way to change him back before the full moon rises and the transformation is complete. AU. OC/Canon.
1. Chapter 1

Winifred Portley-Rind paced in front of the first row of seats in the newly built Cheesebridge theater, one hand behind her back clutching a rolled up script and the other hand pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. Her father had just used the latest fundraising money to build a proper theater for her and all the other thespians and musicians in Cheesebridge to perform in, rather than that little wooden stage in the market place that was becoming more unsteady by the day. Winnie was going to be the first person to open a show in the new building, one she wrote herself about an man who was hired to kill people but eventually ended up being hired to kill the love of his life's family, including her. A psychological thriller, much to Winnie's delight. Her cast was small, only a few people were needed. She had cast Molly as the leading lady, Elizabeth Jones, and Mr. Pickles as the lead role of Sir Bartholomew Angsteen. She casted them in particular because those two characters had a kissing scene, and she knew she wanted Molly for Elizabeth, but she did not want any other man but Mr. Pickles to kiss her, even though they weren't officially together they were still head over heels in love with each other. Unfortunately, Mr. Pickles was failing to meet the expectations of the role.

Mr. Pickles stood on stage, fiddling with his scarf and waiting for the director to calm down. He looked over at Molly every few seconds, and she would give him a reassuring smile. Although she and everyone backstage knew exactly what Winnie was going to say. "You stink of illiteracy! Murder! Betrayal! Don't you know anything about romance!?" Winnie yelled, staring the tall man down. She then looked from Pickles to Molly and rolled her eyes, "Of course you don't, why would I ask that?" she mumbled to herself. Another moment of silence came before she finally spoke again. "Mr. Pickles, do you realize that we open this show in a week, and you still say these lines as if you're reading a text book! Where's your passion? Where's your sorrow? You're about to kill the woman you love, don't you feel any regret? Remorse? Anything?!"

"I- I feel… Sad." he piped up.

Winnie threw her script onto the ground and balled her hands into fists, "Then ACT like it!"

She heard a throat clear from the side of the stage and looked over to see Herbert Trubshaw poking his head out from behind the curtain. She groaned as she waited for the inevitable. "Uh, Winnie- I mean, Ms. Director Ma'am. Perhaps what we need is another character to come in and-"

Winnie began, calmer than she had been with Mr. Pickles, "For the last time, Herbert, there are no other characters for you to play. You are in charge of special effects."

The man nodded his head quickly, leaving them Molly and Pickles alone on stage again,"Righto, sorry. Carry on."

Winnie took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. "Alright, we're going to do this scene again. This time I want you to do it as if it were real, Mr. Pickles." She bent down to pick up her script and flip to the proper page.

Mr. Pickles looked down at his feet, "Oh, but I would never hurt Ms. Molly in real life." He peeked back up at Molly who giggled and turned away, trying to hid her blushing cheeks. Winnie wanted to gag, "Well, in this reality you do. ACTION!"

Mr. Pickles walked off stage right to make his entrance. He took a deep breath and a gulp before stepping out and beginning. "Elizabeth, dear? Are you here?" He entered onto the stage that looked like a lady's bedroom. Molly at a vanity fussing with her hair. She turned quickly, surprised to see him, "Bartholomew? What are you doing here?"

He stepped center stage, and shakily began his next line, "I- I came to finish what I started." He stood tall, but you could tell he was nervous underneath all that height.

Molly stood up and approached him, "What do you mean?"

Mr. Pickles sighed and looked down. Molly stood up and approached him. He took her hands and looked her in the eyes. As sincere as he could, he spoke, "Elizabeth, you know I love you with all my heart and soul. I would marry you if I could, but…"

"But what? With my father gone we can finally have the life we wished, and we have the money to do it-" Molly interrupted him, but was then cut off by Pickles. "No. We can have the life that you wished." He let go of her hands and stepped away from her.

Molly took a step towards him, attempting to put a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off. "Bartholomew?"

Mr. Pickles turned back towards her, pretending to take a knife out of his jacket and stepping towards her, "I'm sorry, but a man has to do what a man has to do." As he approached her, she backed away, "Bartholomew…" She eventually backed into the vanity. Mr. Pickles went to strike with his invisible prop, but stopped midway through and turned out to the audience. "Alright, how was that? I felt good that time, I felt there." he shook his arms out, a proud smile on his face. Molly stood beside him and beamed. It was better than he had done before.

There was no response from the director for quite some time. Mr. Pickles held his breath as he waited. A moment later she finally gave feedback. "Better." Pickles gave a sigh of relief. "But it's still not my vision. Keep on practicing and _maybe_ you'll get a third of the way there." She stood up from her seat and began gathering all her notes and papers together, "That's a wrap for today, see you all again on Monday. Where's the stage manager?" As she asked the question, Fish popped his head out from behind the curtain backstage, ran around it, and jumped down to the audience where she was.

Everyone backstage bustled about to get ready to head home. Another long week of rehearsals was finally over, and the cast and crew had the whole weekend to recuperate before hell week began on Monday. Hell week is the week before a show opens when the actors and crew have to run the play cue-to-cue with lights, costumes, hair, makeup, set changes, effects, and everything in between to find out what needs to be changed, fixed, and polished before the show opens.

Mr. Pickles felt fine about it all really, he had his lines memorized, his costume fit perfectly, he didn't have to worry about doing his hair since he had none. His only fear was that he would slip up on the acting itself. It was a stretch for him to play a character like Sir Bartholomew Angsteen. He was a ruthless killer while Monty Pickles would never hurt a fly. Especially a fly who was Ms. Molly Monte Cristo. Winnie was asking for some pretty brutal stuff in this play. He had to grab Molly by the arms, stab her, kiss her, and hold her by the waist. He could barely do any of that in real life, what made Winnie think he could do it on a stage?

As he thought about all the week's work he had done, he saw that Molly stopped by with some of the backstage crew before leaving. Trubshaw, Hamilton, and Ms. Bonaparte, the town seamstress who was doing costuming for the play. Molly chatted with them about the rehearsal, "I think it went pretty smooth. Not nearly as bad as the time Mr. Pickles dropped me on stage anyway." she rubbed her arm a moment, "I'm still a bit sore from that…" she commented. Mr. Pickles stood where they couldn't see him, but where he could still listen.

Hamilton scrapped a spoon inside a jar of almost empty peanut butter. "Well I don't think Pickle-Boy is getting any better. We've been doing this play for a month now and he still does his lines like he just read the script for the first time." He took the spoonful he could scrape out and shoved it into his mouth.

Molly pouted, not sure how to argue. He wasn't wrong necessarily. "He's trying." she retorted weakly.

Hamilton popped the spoon out of his mouth and spoke while still chewing, "And he can try all he wants, but what he lacks is the raw, natural, talent." He stood as tall as he could, but was still the shortest one in the group.

Mrs. Bonaparte chuckled as she shadily commented, "Ah, like the talent you have when you come out on stage with a spoon of Peanut Butter in your mouth?" Trubshaw and Molly couldn't help but crack smiles and giggle. Hamilton side-eyed her, and shoved the spoon back into the jar to scavenge for more PB. He mumbled to himself as the rest mocked him, "Exactly. I can act better than him with a mouthful of peanut butter."

Mr. Pickles stepped out from his spot and cleared his throat. They all turned to him, unsure how much he had heard. Hamilton spoke up first, "Great work today, Pickle-Boy." Mr. Pickles' face couldn't help but fall a bit, knowing he was lying straight to his face.

"Yes, well done. You are improving." Mrs. B patted him on the back as she walked past him, ready to head home. Hamilton and Trubshaw did the same, leaving just Molly and Pickles backstage. The two looked at each other for a moment. Molly sighed, "How much did you hear?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed he had been listening at all. "I- I'm pretty sure all of it."

"I'm so sorry, Monty." she walked up and hugged him. He was surprised, but hugged her back. He needed it. They began to walk out the backdoor, out into the alley, then out to the street. "You really are getting better, you know? I mean it, I actually felt scared today." she giggled nervously, hoping she was cheering the poor man up.

He sighed, "You don't have to lie to me, Ms. Molly. Hamilton was just being honest. I'm not as great an actor as my resume says. I don't know why Winifred even casted me as this part in the first place." He watched his shoes as he walked down the cobble street.

Molly put her hand on his arm sympathetically, "Because she saw your potential. She knows you can do it." He looked at her, and she smiled at him hopefully.

"You sure about that?" he asked, uncertain.

She nodded, "I am." She felt a lightbulb flash above her head as an idea popped into her mind, "How about you come over to my house tomorrow afternoon and we can run some lines together. Maybe in a more private and less stressful setting so you can get into character better." she looped her arm into his as they walked, hoping to be helpful and also a bit flirty at the same time.

Flustered by her offer and the touching he graciously accepted, "Th- That would be l-lo-lovely." he managed to speak with a goofy grin across his face. They approached the front door of Molly's house and bid their goodbyes. Mr. Pickles walked down the street back to the factory as the sun set on the horizon. Rehearsal may not have gone too well, but he knew tomorrow would be a better day.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Pickles accompanied Mr. Trout, and Ms. Pepper as they walked through the busy market place of Cheesebridge picking up a few groceries for each of their households. He felt nervous about the play and rehearsing with Ms. Molly later that day. He wasn't sure if it was a date, two friends hanging out, or a colleague helping another colleague. Mr. Trout and Pepper rolled their eyes as he rambled about the whole thing and assured him again and again that he would do fine in the play and with Molly. "I just don't know…" Mr. Pickles sighed, "I wish I knew how to be more smooth."

Mr. Trout wrinkled his brow, not sure if he heard his friend correctly. "You wish you knew how to move?" he repeated wrong.

" _Smoooooottthhhh_." Mr. Pickles said again, elongating the word. His friend nodded in understanding, "Oh, you were talking into my bad ear. But maybe if you did articulate better you would be a better actor." At that Pepper cracked up laughing, hunching over and holding her gut. After a moment when she recomposed herself and wiped a tear from her eye, Mr. Trout spoke up, "That- That wasn't a joke." She suddenly turned red from embarrassment and began smoothing out her dress and fixing her hair. She stood up straight but still hunched her shoulders a bit in humiliation. She cleared her throat, "Sorry…"

Mr. Pickles watched as Ms. Pepper recomposed herself awkwardly and gave a long yawn. He then noticed how tired she looked. "You doing alright, Ms. Pepper? You don't look too good."

Ms. Pepper threw her hands up as if she was waiting to be asked that question all day. "Don't get me started! I haven't gotten a wink of sleep in _days_. Have you heard that dog howling in the middle of the night lately? It's incredibly obnoxious." She leaned into the group to whisper, the two tall men bending down to hear her, "I think it belongs to that Thane man, you know the Irish fellow who's so oddly normal…"

As she described him he happened to walk by. "Top of the morning' to ya!" he greeted in his thick accent as he tipped his hat revealing his curly red hair. Mr. Trout and Mr. Pickles waved kindly back to him before he walked out of view.

"I hate him." Pepper stated shortly. She turned on her heels and continued to the Produce Caboose, the two men following behind her.

As they walked past different stands something caught Mr. Pickles' eye. At a jewelry stand where different pendants, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings sat neatly in rows there sat a pendant on a gold chain. The beautiful piece had swirling gold paisley designs wrapping around a sparkling pink stone glittering in the center. As he looked at it he could envision it on no one else but Ms. Molly. It reminded him of her, he could practically see her reflection in the shining opal. She had to have it, and he had to be the one to get it for her.

A sales woman approached him from behind the counter. "Need any help my good man?" she asked as she polished a large gem in her hand with a spotted rag. She had on a large pair of glasses and a headband with different magnifying lenses on her head. Her hair was brown and greasy, hangingng flatly at her shoulders. He pointed to the gold and pink pendant. "How much for this?" he asked.

The lady gave it a look and rubbed the spotted rag on her chin as she thought about it. "It's about ten shillings, but for you i'll make it eight, how's that sound?" she smiled as if she struck up a good deal.

Mr. Pickles frowned as he searched his pockets. He pulled out what he could scrounge up. "Um… How about six shillings, this toothpick- that hasn't been used- and the key to the factory. Oh wait, I need that… Just the shillings and the toothpick then." he placed the key back in his pocket and the ladies' eyes followed as he did so. She caught sight of a chain coming out of his coat. "What's that?" she pointed to it.

Mr. Pickles looked back at the lady who was staring at his left coat pocket. He hesitated, knowing what was happening, but pulled it out nonetheless. "This? I-It's a family heirloom." He held his prized pocket watch in his hands for the woman to see. She was entranced with it, she took it from his hands, much to his dismay and observed it close up. "Absolutely beautiful!" she thought aloud. She traced her fingers along the antique design on the lid as she examined the watch. She even adjusted one of her magnifying glasses on her headband down in front of her eyes to get a better look at it. A slimy smile grew on her face. The lady reminded Mr. Pickles of some kind of crocodile. "How about I give you the pendant for this. No shillings necessary." she offered.

Mr. Pickles retorted immediately, "This- This pocket watch has been passed down from generation to generation in my family, one Pickle to the next. Someday I hope to give it to one of my own children. If I have any, that is. That necklace might be the difference in me having those children though, so I- I think I would rather pay the shillings." he couldn't help but reach for his watch as he explained. He grabbed a hold of it whilst still in her grasp and for a moment they had a bit of a war to take it. After a fierce, loyal, tug he got it back into his hands and his pocket where it belonged.

The woman crossed her arms. "Pocket watch or nothing. That's my final offer." she stared him dead in the eyes. He bit his lip at he weighed his options. He stared at the necklace and held his watch in his pocket tightly. The pocket watch was his most prized possession, he took it with him everywhere and carried it with pride. It was the only really nice, expensive thing he owned. On the other hand, Ms. Molly meant the world to him more than any old pocket watch. He never usually bought her gifts, and this necklace was a ripe opportunity he was sure to never find again. He sighed and gave in, "Alright. Here." he handed her back the watch with much remorse. The lady snatched it out of his grasp and held it close to her, going a small, maniacal laugh. She felt lucky to have her hands on such a vintage beauty. She looked down at the pendant on the table and tossed it to the man haphazardly. "Here you are, sir, pleasure doing business with you!"

Mr. Pickles clumsily caught the jewelry and gave the woman a small huff before returning back to his friends. He gave another sigh of grief as he stared at the piece in his hands. The gold pieces glistened in the light of the sun, much like Molly's hair did. He couldn't help but smile. The exchange wasn't a complete loss. He placed the pendant in his pocket where his watch used to sit and rejoined his group.

Later that day, Mr. Pickles joined Ms. Molly for a spot of tea and a small rehearsal at her house. They spent most of the afternoon into the evening running lines and reviewing blocking. Molly couldn't help but cringe at some of his performances. He tried to act scary but came off as sick. He tried to act suave but stuttered on his lines every time he made eye contact with her. The fact that he tried at all was miraculous though. Before she knew it his stuttering got less and less and what sounded like a sick throat became a natural speech pattern for Sir Bartholomew Angsteen. Molly was so proud of his improvement. She could tell that everyone, including Winnie, would think so too.

By the end of the night they had run through the whole play, and he felt ready as ever for Monday's rehearsal at the theater. "I'm feeling really good about all this. Thank you Ms. Molly for being so patient with me. I know the others haven't been so nice."

Molly walked with him over to the front door of her home. "Oh it was no trouble at all. I'd do anything for you." she smiled and swayed as she gazed at him with her big green eyes. Mr. Pickles was immediately entranced. "A- And I you." he agreed. The lady giggled, and couldn't help but pull out her fan from her chest as she began to blush. Mr. Pickles cleared his throat and shoved his hand into his pocket awkwardly. He felt the pendant and gasped, suddenly remembering what he got for her. "Speaking of which, I got you a little something. A gift for helping me out." he pulled out the necklace and held it in the palms of his hands for her to see.

Molly gasped as he revealed the jewelry. He had never gotten her a gift before, especially one so expensive looking. Not that things like that really mattered to her. He could have gotten her a measly piece of cheese and she would have been grateful. "Oh, Monty… It's so lovely."

The man nodded, "Yes, I- I saw it and I thought of you."

Molly's eyes shot up towards his, both of them filled with stars. "Really?" she asked. She sighed dreamily as she took it from hi hands, handling it as carefully as she could. She stared at it, trying to see what he saw when he looked into that opal gem. She began slowly swaying again and smiled up at him in a flirtatious manner. "Will you help me put it on?" she asked, taking the position.

Mr. Pickles cleared his throat and nervously answered, "Oh, uh.. Hehehe, yes. Yes, of course!" He took the chain in his hands and draped it around Molly's neck. He tried his best to keep his hands from shaking as he clasped it together. Molly turned and lifted her hair over the chain, an action Mr. Pickles had never seen her do before. She looked graceful.

The lady couldn't stop smiling as she gave another dreamy sigh, "It's absolutely beautiful. Thank you." She reached out her arms for a hug, and Mr. Pickles stepped in eagerly, burying himself in her big, gold hairdo. She smelled like the fruity teas she loved to drink; Almost a cranberry or apple mix.

"No, thank you." he mumbled as they hugged. They released, both grinning like idiots. Love-Stricken idiots, too afraid to confess their feelings to one another. "I better get going then. Tootle-Loo, Ms. Molly." Mr. Pickles said as he opened the front door and took a step out.

"Tootle-Loo, Mr. Pickles." she waved back to him.

He waited to turn until the door was fully closed. He took the few steps down from her front door to the streets of Cheesebridge and began his long walk home. He thought about all that happened today. Losing his pocket watch was a sad parting, but the look on Ms. Molly's face and the exchange they shared was worth more than a million pocket watches. He could still feel his heart racing, and the smell of her still lingered in his nose. He gave a dreamy sigh, much like she did earlier. The afternoon spent with Ms. Molly made him feel a new kind of confidence, one he hadn't felt in a very long time or possibly ever.

As he walked tall and proud, something watched him through the light fog of the town. It followed him as he walked farther and father down Curd's way. The fog only got thicker the further down he went. There was an eerie feeling in the air, not like usual when he walked back to the factory. Mr. Pickles stopped in his tracks as he could swear he wasn't alone. As he looked around the streets were empty, only the blanket of fog rolled on the ground. He shrugged it off and continued walking, that newfangled confidence suddenly wavering on him.

A low, growling sound echoed around him as he began to walk faster down the hill. Suddenly a loud howl was heard that made him freeze in his tracks. It sounded closer to him than he'd had preferred it to be. From the fog, a large dog jumped out at him. He screamed and moved out of the way, but as he did… CHOMP. The dog got a good bite right on his left hand. As soon as it was there, it was gone. Monty was startled, to say the least. He watched as the dog ran away into the shadows. Not giving it a second thought, he held his left hand in his right, and bolted it towards the factory.


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Pickles threw open the factory door and quickly shut it behind him as he tried to catch his breath. He still held his left hand in his right as it bled and stained the wrist of his coat. Mr. Trout and Mr. Gristle looked up from their sitting place at the wooden table as they heard the door slam. The moment Mr. Trout saw the blood he bolted up out of his seat and ran towards his buddy. "Mr. Pickles are you alright? What happened?" He snapped his fingers towards Mr. Gristle, "Get something to wrap him in, quickly!" Mr. Gristle nodded as he ran over to a small metal box filled with some dusty first-aid equipment.

Meanwhile Mr. Trout continued to help out his tall friend, "Come along, Mr. Pickles, let's wash you up." He led him over to a small sink by their stove where he turned on the worn out faucet. They had to wait a moment as brown mucky water came out first, then followed by cool, clear, water. The large fellow helped his friend wash the blood from his wound. Mr. Pickles couldn't help but wince at the pain.

Mr. Gristle tugged at Mr. Trout's coat as he held out the bandages. The large man quickly snatched them out of his hands and tightly wrapped up Mr. Pickles hand.

Mr. Pickles just blinked as his friend wrapped up his wound. He was grateful, but it all happened so fast. "Um… Thank you." He couldn't think of much else to say. He looked at his hand impressed with the timing they made.

Mr. Trout was a bit out of breath, "Sorry, I just- I- I was worried." He was a bit embarrassed at how fast he reacted, but he wouldn't have done it any differently if he had to do it again.

Mr. Pickles waved it off with his now bandaged hand, "No, it's alright. Couldn't ask for better friends to help me out." he patted Mr. Trout's back and took a seat at the table. His two colleagues sat with him.

"How did that happen exactly?" Mr. Trout asked him as he fiddled with his hands. Looking at the bandages alone made him a bit squeamish.

"Well, I was walking home from Ms. Molly's house. I gave her the necklace, by the way. She loved it." he smiled as he remembered it all, "She even hugged me, and I could smell her hair. She smells like-" Mr. Gristle interrupted him with a gagging sound, and Mr. Trout rolled his eyes, "Mr. Pickles, please." he pleaded.

"Anyway, I was walking home from Ms. Molly's house when this dog came out of nowhere and gave me a good bite on the hand. Well, it wasn't good, it was painful. I- I just mean that it sure was a big one. I think it was one of those German Shepherds or Pomeranians, you know? The ones with all the fur." Mr. Pickles couldn't remember exactly what the dog looked like. It was so dark and foggy, all he could remember was the pounce, the bite, and the running.

"Uh-huh, sure…" Mr. Trout ignored his obviously false estimate of the dog breed. That didn't matter so much. "Then you just ran home?"

Mr. Pickles nodded, "Just ran home. Quite a workout too. Almost toppled down the road a few times. It feels a lot steeper when you're running." he rambled. His friends were slowly starting to drift off as he continued rambling. Suddenly he could feel his head start to spin. He raised his good hand up to his head, "I- I don't know if it was the running or the blood loss, b- but I feel very sick all a sudden…" he closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on.

Mr. Trout immediately stood up and took his friends arm to help him up, "Perhaps you should just be off to bed then." He helped Mr. Pickles down to the bedroom and let him rest.

The following day, Mr. Pickles couldn't get out of bed at all. He was sick to his stomach and his head was still spinning. He was afraid he had rabies from the dog bite. Mr. Trout called the doctor over that afternoon, but he didn't have much to say. The bite was not infected and there were no traces of rabies, only a slight fever. The doctor suspected perhaps a bit of food poisoning and suggested he just ride it out till he got better. Mr. Trout worried for his friend and was by his side all day. He even made some of his special soup, but Mr. Pickles wouldn't eat, and when did he just threw it all up.

On Monday though, Mr. Pickles hopped right out of bed all bright-eyed and bushy tailed as if the whole thing never happened. He marched right upstairs for breakfast. Mr. Trout did a double-take seeing his friend up so suddenly, but that wasn't the only reason he looked twice. "M-Mr. Pickles! You're up! And you have a- a- a-"

"A MUSTACHE! I know!" he twirled it victoriously. It was a dark brown, and curled at the ends much like the fake one he used to wear in his shows with Madame Frou Frou. "I mean I stopped shaving about… I don't know, fifteen years ago. I think it's finally starting to come in!" He proudly sat at the table, propping his feet up on top of it, an arrogant action that reminded Mr. Trout of their old boss Mr. Snatcher. He watched in disbelief as his friend continuously twirled his new facial hair. This was all too peculiar. One moment he was sick as a dog, the next he's up looking better than ever. "Are- Are you feeling alright?" he asked.

Mr. Pickles hopped out of his seat, startling his friend. "Never felt better, Theodore! Never felt better!" Just as quick as he stood up he sat back down. "So what's for breakfast?" Mr. Pickles picked up his fork and knife in each hand, awaiting his meal.

Mr. Trout didn't know what to do, he was sure he was dreaming. Perhaps if he just played along he'd wake up and it would all go back to normal. "Uh, eggs." he answered, lifting the warm pan off the stove.

"Perfect! Thank you!" Mr. Pickles beamed. Mr. Trout took the small pan and scraped a third of the eggs onto his plate. "Any bacon today?" Mr. Pickles inquired.

"I can make some." Mr. Trout pulled out a brown paper package and unwrapped it. Inside were different meats he bought at the market the previous day. He sorted through for the bacon. "How many you want?"

"How many we got?"

Mr. Trout placed three slices on the pan. "I jus got some more the other day, so a dozen."

Mr. Pickles nodded. "Ah, I see. So I would like…" he counted on his fingers, "A dozen."

Mr. Trout stopped in his tracks, and turned to his friend. "Uh, you sure?"

Mr. Pickles face fell and he looked at his friend in disbelief, "Did I stutter?" he snapped.

"No, no! A- A dozen it is then…" he turned back to the pan and continued cooking. Mr. Pickles never snapped at him like that before. It was rather frightening, and he couldn't help but do what he was told because he wasn't sure what else to do. He cooked the bacon and much to his surprise Mr. Pickles ate all of it, as well as his own helping of eggs. Mr. Gristle woke up a while later and was disgruntled to find there was barely any food left for him,now that hit his eggs with Mr. Trout.

"I got to go start my walk up to the theater, thank you for the food Mr. Trout." As he stood up he saw Mr. Gristle giving him a death glare. He barely noticed though, "Good day, Chester!" he greeted. Mr. Gristle growled and attempted to bite Pickles' unbandaged hand, but Mr. Trout held him back. Monty never even noticed as he walked right out of the factory.

He arrived at the theater after a brisk walk up the hill. He had so much energy in him, he had never felt better in his life. He almost forgot the awful pain from being in bed all day before. He was ready to go on that stage and show them all what a great actor he really was.

As he entered through the backstage door, he could see everyone hustling and bustling putting everything together for their first dress rehearsal. Molly was in her costume pacing back and forth when suddenly she caught sight of him. She ran straight towards him, "Oh, Monty! Are you alright? I heard you were sick and it made me _worried_ sick and-" she froze, noticing his new mustache.

Mr. Pickles ignored her pause and took her hands in his, "There is nothing to worry about, dear. I feel fit as a fiddle! I'm ready to go out there and be the Bartholomew Winnie wants to see!" He gave her a pat on the shoulder as he stepped past her to go get ready for the run through. As he walked past her, her eyes followed him. He seemed so confident, so bold. Not a single stutter in his words or a waver of his hand. She gave a small smile, happy to see him so sure of himself. She was proud of him, yet something was off. She decided to ignore it for now.

It was time for the run through and everyone was in their places. Winnie came backstage to check with everyone and paused when she saw her leading man. "Is that fake?" she pointed to his facial hair.

He turned to her, trying to figure out what she meant. He crossed his eyes to see his mustache and spoke up, "Oh no, it's mine. Grew it myself." Winnie narrowed her eyes as she stared at it. She gave a small nod, "I like it." She clapped her hands and made her way to the audience, "On with the show!" Mr. Pickles took that as a good luck charm before stepping out on stage.

The dress rehearsal went smoothly as the play began, but as it went on they got closer and closer to a scene that Pickles, and everyone watching, usually dreaded. It was the scene where Bartholomew got angry at Elizabeth and ended up kissing her. By the director's orders they weren't allowed to kiss until the opening night of the play, but they had to make it feel real and believable, so that anyone watching would have wanted them to kiss in that moment.

This had been proven to be very difficult for Mr. Pickles in the past, considering he never liked to lay a hand on Molly without her consent or talk rudely to her in any way. He had to snap at her, grab her by the arm, and grab her by the waist. Usually he would feel sick before going through this scene, but this time he felt ready.

"You think you're so clever?" he remarked to her. She gave a sharp turn to face him, placing her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. "I do what I have to do." she retorted.

He approached her quickly and they were practically nose to nose. "Tell me where they are?" he asked forcefully. She narrowed her eyes, still looking cheeky, "No." She turned on her heels again, her hair whacking his face purposefully as she walked away. Before she was out of his reach though, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to him. She gave a shriek in surprise. Mr. Pickles had never actually done the proper action before, especially with such gusto. She had to admit though as good as it appeared to the audience perhaps it was a bit too real. His grip was rather tight on her.

"Listen here." he spoke quietly and calmly, but it was eerie and gave everyone watching chills, "I will find out. If not from you, from the others."

Molly laughed in his face and pulled her arm off his grip, with more force than she intended to use. "If you wanted the others to tell you, you would have went to them first. I know why you came to me for the answers. You _like_ talking to me. You're madly in love with me."

Now Mr. Pickles gave a chuckle, "Sure, i'll let you believe that." He crossed his arms and faced away from her.

Molly clicked her tongue. "Denial. Figures the most adored man in town is too much of a coward to face his feelings." She faced away from him as well. At this, Mr. Pickles whipped around and stomped straight towards her. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around, holding her close. Molly gave another small shriek, never being handled this way before, "I'll show you who's a coward!" he stated sternly.

That was when the kiss would take place, but instead, he simply booped his nose onto hers. She however closed her eyes and puckered up. There was a slight pause as Mr. Pickles waited for her to break out of character. "Ms. Molly…" he asked, out of character himself. Molly's eyes fluttered open as she broke character and relaxed her lips. He still held her tight and close. She was closer to him than she had ever been before. She was turned on, to say the least, and she wished he had kissed her right then and there.

Winnie bursted out of her seat and applauded loudly. "Bravo! Brava!" Fish stood up beside her and patted his box as well. Everyone backstage gave whoops and hollers for the two actors. "Oh, Mr. Pickles," Winnie began, "What remarkable improvement! You have finally become my vision! You are Bartholomew Angsteen!"

He finally let go of Molly, and stepped forward. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" he looked back at his leading lady who was recomposing herself. As she caught him smiling, she smiled back and gave him two thumbs up. Everything seemed to really be looking up for Monty Pickles.


	4. Chapter 4

Whilst Mr. Pickles had a wonderful day, feeling more confident than ever before, Mr. Trout couldn't help but notice a change in his friends attitude. Maybe it was his new mustache or his suddenly excellent acting, but he had become cocky and rude. He would snap at his friends, which he never did before. He wouldn't stutter in his words or hunch over while he walked. He was a new man, but it didn't seem like it was for the better.

That night, everyone was asleep downstairs in the basement. Mr. Gristle snuggled his chewed up bat like a teddy bear as he snored in his hammock made out of old Boxtroll-catching nets. Mr. Trout was cozy on the top bunk that sunk under his weight, and Mr. Pickles was sleeping on the bottom bunk underneath with his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. It seemed peaceful, but Mr. Pickles couldn't stop tossing and turning in his sleep. He was feeling sick again, but this time it was worse. It felt like his whole body was undergoing a transformation. A sensation ran through his bones, sending chills up his spine, arms, and legs. Suddenly something came over him. Dog-like instincts kicked in and he was up out of bed on all fours. He sniffed around the room and caught the scent of his good friend, Mr. Trout. He barked up at the top bunk where he lay sleeping. Another bark, but no answer.

He backed up and readied to pounce, wagging his tail behind him. He leaped up onto the top bunk, directly on his friends stomach, rudely awaking him. Mr. Trout coughed and tried to catch his breath. He then noticed the large, skinny, dog sitting on his belly patiently waiting for something. He was frozen in shock, unsure what to do. The dog began licking his face, much to his discomfort. He pushed the dog off of his belly and onto the floor. The dog gave a yelp of surprise as it hit the ground.

Mr. Gristle awoke at this sound and in trying to get up to quickly, he fell out of his hammock bed onto the floor. He groaned as he rubbed his face and sat up. Mr. Pickles approached him and gave a few sniffs. As the dog sniffed him, Mr. Gristle growled and the dog whined and backed away in fear.

Mr. Trout climbed the ladder down to the floor from his bunk and stood beside his short friend. "Are you seeing what i'm seeing to, Mr. Gristle?" He rubbed his eyes, making sure that this wasn't all some bizarre dream.

"You mean the dog that looks and sounds exactly like Mr. Pickles?" Mr. Gristle grabbed his glasses off the night stand between the hammock and the bunk beds and placed them on his face.

Mr. Trout gulped. "Y- Yes…"

Mr. Gristle chuckled as he grew an eerie, toothy, grin on his face, "Yes."

They both sat for a moment and watched the dog scratch itself behind the ear with its foot. It looked just like their colleague Mr. Pickles, it wore his clothes and everything, the only difference was it was covered in shaggy brown fur. Even his barks and growls sounded like Mr. Pickles doing some sort of terrible animal impressions.

The two men looked at each other. The same thought was crossing their minds, but how could they be sure it was the truth. Mr. Trout pushed his friend towards the dog, "M- Make sure it's him." Mr. Gristle rolled his eyes, already knowing the answer, but went along anyway. He approached the dog and smelled him, as if he were an animal now too. As he did so, Mr. Pickles gave him a quick lick on the face.

"Bleh!" Mr. Gristle exclaimed, backing away and wiping his face with his sleeve. "It's him!"

The Mr. Pickles dog proceeded to take his pillow from off his bed and chew at it. Mr. Trout reacted quickly, "No! Bad Mr. Pickles!" he snatched the pillow away, but the dog had a tight hold. There was a bit of a tug-o-war as they fought for it. Ultimately, the dog won, sending Mr. Trout toppling backwards onto he floor. Mr. Pickles now saw this as a game and wagged his tail playful, jumping around and hoping they would do it again.

Mr. Gristle looked down at his friend lying on his back on the floor. Mr. trout looked up at him, "I think we're going to need some help." The two men nodded in agreement, and Mr. Trout sat up, "You watch the dog." Mr. Gristle gave him a small salute before he rushed upstairs to the phone.

At the Monte Cristo residence, the phone rang in the kitchen downstairs. Pepper groggily made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs. She yawned as she answered, "Monte Cristo residence, what do you want?" Bitterness dripped from her voice, as usual.

"Ms- Ms. Pepper? Is that you?" Mr. Trout asked hopefully.

Ms. Pepper instantly perked up, as if she was wide awake. "Mr. Trout, what a surprise! What are you doing calling here so late?" she found herself fixing her hair like a schoolgirl taking to her crush, even though he couldn't see her.

Mr. Trout thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation. "Well… Something has come up and I can't really explain everything right now, but I need you here at the factory right now. Could you do that?" he begged. He looked behind him, where Mr. Gristle and Mr. Pickles had followed him upstairs. He rolled his eyes, as they played tug-o-war with a piece of rope they found on the floor. Mr. Gristle held his end of the rope in his mouth like the dog did.

Pepper was confused but curious and promised to come, "Alright. I'll be there as soon as I can!" She hung up the phone and for a moment her heart beated loudly, unsure of what was to come. Her head filled with visions much like her books had told, of men setting up mystery dates and confessing their love. She had never felt like this about anyone before. She quickly yet quietly ran upstairs to her room and got dressed, making herself presentable. She felt silly fussing over herself like this so much for a man, but she really couldn't help it, she had no idea what was coming over her. She tiptoed down the stairs and out of the house. Once she was outside, she began racing down the hill as fast as she could without tripping and rolling down the road like a barrel.

As she approached the Red Hat factory she had to stop, catch her breath, adjust her hair, and smooth her dress out one last time. Just as she was about to knock on the door, she heard a howling coming from inside. She froze, a bitter expression crossing her face. Another loud one came out, and she couldn't help but cover her ears. She hated dogs and the sound of howling, especially with the one in town keeping her up at night lately. Her face fell and all the thoughts she had worked up in her head before were wiped clean out of view. She sighed, looking like her tired self again, and knocked hard on the door.

The door slid open to reveal Mr. Gristle, he leaned up against the door frame and smiled. "Hey, good lookin'." His slimy grin was enough to make her gag, but she refrained. She pushed past him and into the factory, but stopped in her tracks as she saw the oddest sight before her. Mr. Trout was trying to hold down a large, skinny, dog, whilst it tried to escape from his grip and howl loudly at the moon shining in from the windows. At the sight of the lady, Mr. Trout released his grip and the dog bolted for the metal stairs. As soon as he reached a window, he propped his front paws on the wall and howled. All three of them covered their ears as he continued on.

Ms. Pepper was now fuming with anger. "Do you care to explain to me what is going on?" she placed her hands on her hips and stared daggers at the man sitting on the filthy floor. He began to stand up as he tried to explain, "Hehe, funny story really. Uh… You see, Ms. Pepper-"

"Mr. Pickles is a werewolf." Mr. Gristle stepped in beside Pepper, making her jump at his sudden intrusion. She scowled at him and returned her attention to Mr. Trout. "That's impossible!"

"No, no, it's true! Think about it, he was bit by that dog the other night, and since then he's been more confident, more rude, he even grew a mustache! Now there is suddenly a dog in the factory that sounds and looks exactly like him?"

Ms. Pepper couldn't believe the stories they were coming up with this late at night. "It's coincidence!" she crossed her arms.

Mr. Trout argued, "What kind of a coincidence is that?!"

"Well if you're so sure that that dog is Mr. Pickles, then prove it!" Ms. Pepper smirked, sure he couldn't do it.

Mr. Trout thought for a moment, then whistled and called the dog down to him, "Mr. Pickles! Come here, boy!" The dog poked it's head over the railing then came rushing down the steps and to his friends' side. The dog caught sight of Pepper and growled at her. Ms. Pepper stood her ground, too tired to care. The dog barked at her, and she snapped, "Shut it!" Mr. Pickles quickly whined and hid behind Trout's legs.

The lady sighed, "Alright, fine. I believe you." She pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand, keeping her other arm crossed in front of her. "So if you know this dog is Mr. Pickles, then why did you call me down here?" She let her hand fall to her side as she waited for another explanation. She was feeling incredibly foolish after fussing to get there so quickly, and now finding herself more tired than ever, she was ready to take the long walk back home and forget all about this.

Mr. Trout rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed he had dragged her all the way down there so late at night. "Well, I wasn't sure how to handle this situation. We have to figure out how to change Mr. Pickles back to normal. I- I figured you could help since you're the smartest person I know."

Ms. Pepper's face shifted from angry and tired to shocked and flattered. "Really?" she asked. He nodded, a small, warm, smile on his face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep her cool and refrain from grinning like an idiot. She regained her composure and opened her eyes, "Fine, I will help you with… This." she gestured to Mr. Pickles as he chewed on his own leg. "Tomorrow we will go to the library and research the whole subject of werewolves, but for now I want to sleep." Mr. Trout nodded understandingly as he looked down at his friend who was trapped in this curse. He hoped there was a cure to change Mr. Pickles back into his normal self.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day Mr. Trout met Ms. Pepper at the library to start their research and help find the answer to Mr. Pickles problem. They both looked dead tired. While Ms. Pepper had to walk uphill all the way back home, Mr. Trout was up most of the night trying to calm down a hyperactive dog. By the time they got him to settle down, he was only able to get a few hours of sleep before daybreak.

"Long night?" he asked her as they scanned the shelves for books on dogs, wolves, werewolves, and anything else that might help them.

Ms. Pepper rolled her eyes and yawned, "You could have at least _tried_ to halt some of Mr. Pickles howling last night." She picked out a red spine book off the shelf titled _Monsters and You_.

"Oh, that wasn't Mr. Pickles. That was some other dog, and every time it howled Mr. Pickles tried to howl back." Mr. Trout groaned remembering the whole thing. He and Mr. Gristle had to practically wrestle him to keep him quiet most of the night.

The two gathered as many books as they could and stacked them high on a table in the middle of the library. It was quiet and empty, perfect for studying. They had to have read through every book at least twice, yet nothing useful came up.

"Have you found anything?" Mr. Trout asked, setting down a book on dog anatomy. She shook her head. "All i've discovered is the way to kill a werewolf, but not cure one." There was a pause as she thought about it for a moment, "You know we could-"

"No!" he answered loudly, proceeding to get shushed by the librarian. "Sorry." he whispered to the old woman. He turned back to Pepper and repeated quietly, "No!" She shrugged, it was worth a shot.

Hours had passed and books had come and gone from the table, but nothing was helping them enough. They kept a small journal beside them, writing down any useful information. At one point, Ms. Pepper went to write something down about silver when she spotted some writing about dog care. She picked up the journal and read it to herself, "Brush dog at least once a day? Feed water and kibble? Mr. Trout, what is this?!"

"Oh, well, I figured I should know how to look after him if he is going to be a-" before he could finish she gave him a good whack on the arm with the notebook. He rubbed the spot she hit and put aside the book he was reading on pets.

"Let's focus, shall we?" she snapped, returning to her novel that had nothing to do with the subject of dogs or werewolves. Mr. Trout looked at the cover of her book and snatched it out of her hands. He stood up so his hands were out of her reach as she tried to snatch it back. He scoffed at her, and she crossed her arms and turned away from him, angry and slightly embarrassed. He returned the book to her and mocked, "Let's focus, shall we?"

She snatched it back from him "I was taking a quick break!" He smirked at her, sitting back down and continuing the research.

A whole six hours was spent in the library with one break to go get a bite to eat, but they couldn't find anything on how to cure a werewolf. They found plenty on how to kill, care for, feed, make, and avoid werewolves, but nothing on how to cure. "This is hopeless." Ms. Pepper finally gave up, setting down _How to Avoid the Supernatural_ for the fourth time.

"No we can't give up, Mr. Pickles is counting on us!" Mr. Trout protested. He thought for another moment, realizing too that the books were of no help to them. "Maybe there's someone in town we can talk to. Someone who knows about monsters and wolves and all this."

Pepper stood up from the table, beginning to put away all the books they had retrieved. "Really? I doubt anyone in Cheesebridge would be weird enough to know anything about the subject of werewolves. Boxtrolls? Yes. Cabbage Heads? Maybe. But not werewolves."

Mr. Trout helped her clean up as he thought about the different people in Cheesebridge. Pepper had a good point, but there had to be at least one person in town who had even the slightest bit of knowledge. Someone who was creepy and isolated, perhaps. He remembered someone who Mr. Snatcher used to talk to, the mortician down on Curd's Way, not too far from the factory. "Well there is someone we could try asking…"

Ms. Pepper was befuddled as she and Trout stood outside the front door of the Green Hat Morgue. She knew they were going to see some creepy people, but she had hoped they were at least living. Mr. Trout held open the door for the lady, and she stepped in slowly. Inside the lighting was dim and the wooden floors were in need of some sweeping. There was a dusty counter with a bell covered in cobwebs sitting on it, along with papers scattered about. Behind the counter there were shelves of books, notebooks, and jars filled with things that looked almost like organs and different body parts. To the right, behind the counter, there was a door with a sign on it reading "APPOINTED PERSONNEL ONLY SO DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT."

"You sure this place isn't abandoned?" Pepper looked to Mr. Trout, who seemed just as creeped out as her, yet almost used to it all at the same time. He shook his head, "No, it's actually quite lively when the boss is around here. She's an… Interesting one." he remembered the Cheesebridge mortician well. She and Snatcher were very close in fact. Mr. Trout hadn't seen her since he had passed away. "Try ringing the bell." he suggested.

Pepper hesitantly reached forward and dinged the bell, quickly retreating her hand and wiping off any webs onto her apron. As the bell dinged, there was a loud thud, and the counter shook as something hit it from underneath. The two were startled and couldn't help but shriek.

"No need to shout!" A low, yet feminine voice shouted from under the counter. A woman emerged wearing a green hat with a monocle on it on top of her thick, brown, head of hair. She had a green vest over a white button up shirt with both sleeves rolled up, and pants, which only the daring woman in Cheesebridge seemed to sport. The most peculiar thing about this woman was not her job, her home, or her clothes, but her right arm, which really wasn't an arm at all. It was a mechanical prosthetic that seemed to perform all the basic functions of an arm with a steampunk flair. "Dr. Payton at your service! You got a body? We'll dress, it bury it, revive it! Anything you need! Now, what can I do you two for?"

Pepper and Trout looked at each other unsure how to begin. Payton watched them exchange glances and began again, "Say no more. I know the loss of a loved one is hard, but me and my crackerjack crew can deal with even the most rotting corpses!"

Pepper felt sick at the thought of dead bodies and rotting organs, and waved her arms in front of her, "No, no, no. We don't have any dead bodies. We need your help with a live one."

Payton's face contorted, she never had a case like this before. "Sorry, Miss. I only deal with dead bodies."

"No, you don't understand, our predicament is rather… Unusual." Mr. Trout spoke up. Payton eyed the man for a moment, "Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm Mr. Trout. One of Mr. Snatcher's colleagues in the Red Hat business." he reminded her.

The mere mention of Snatcher caused Payton to go pale. She didn't like thinking about her old friend, it was much too painful. The day she lost him was a grim day at the morgue. Having to shovel up all his guts spewed inside of Portley-Rind's house was a nightmare she relived every night in her dreams. Now, seeing one of his lackeys again just made her feel sick to her stomach.

The man noticed her sudden shift and tried to refocus her, "Ms- Ms. Payton?"

She slammed her fists on the counter, causing the two to jump. "That's Doctor to you, sir!" she shouted.

Mr. Trout apologized profusely, "Sorry! Sorry, Doctor Payton."

Payton was breathing heavily as she took a moment to regain composure. She closed her eyes,, "My apologies, it's just- It's been so long since…" Her eyes shot open, she didn't have to explain herself. Nor did she have to talk to either of these people who were just wasting her time. "If you two have come to chit-chat I am much too busy. I do not have to time to reminisce and have chummy banter." She began to gather papers off the desk as if she actually had work to do.

Mr. Trout began to plead, "No, please, we need your assistance! You see our friend-"

"I told you, I only deal with dead people!" The doctor stood her ground as she then turned and grabbed a jar of eyes off the shelf behind her.

"LOOK!" Pepper now slammed her fists on the table, tired of watching this woman walk over her dear friend. "We just have some questions to ask you, and then we'll be on our way and never come back into your _humble_ abode ever again, got it?" She spat sarcasm on 'humble abode.'

Payton turned sharply, eyeing the tiny woman who had so much rage built up inside her. They stared at each other intensely for each other, and realized in that moment that they both had a lot of respect for one another. Payton gave in, but kept on a hard face, "Fine. What do you need to know?" She leaned forward on the counter, hoping this wouldn't take too long.

Pepper nudged Mr. Trout to ask. He gulped, then began, "Do you know anything about… Werewolves?"

Payton was surprised by the subject, but happy to jump in, "Werewolves? HA! Of course I know about werewolves." She turned back to the shelves and searched for a book, "Like most young girls, I went through a werewolf phase and learned everything there is to know about them." She found the one she was looking for and ripped it off the shelf and onto the counter. She blew the dust off of it and unintentionally towards the two guests. They coughed and waved the dust away. Mr. Trout didn't care much, he was so relieved to have possibly found an answer, "Perfect! Because, you see, our friend sort of got bitten and now-"

"Ah, so that's what all that howling has been then? Fascinating." Gears were turning in Payton's head as she recalled the lovely howling she would hear at night while she stayed up working. "So I'm guessing you want to know how to kill'em then?" She proceeded to open the book to a page where there was a graphic and gruesome illustration of a werewolf being shot by three silver bullets.

At the sight of the image, Mr. Trout covered his eyes. "NO! No, quite the contrary, we need to know how to cure him. Turn him back to normal."

Payton shut the book with a loud thud, "Well sorry to burst your bubble, but there is no 'cure.'" She rested her left elbow on it and began tapping on the counter with her robotic fingers. "Only way to help them is to kill'em with silver bullets."

Mr. Trout sighed, perhaps this really was hopeless. Pepper placed a comforting hand on his arm, and they both looked down in grief. "However!" Payton began again, causing both their heads to perk up in unison. "That all depends. Is your friend the original werewolf or was he bitten?"

Mr. Trout answered quickly, "B- Bitten, just a few nights ago."

"Ah, alright. That changes everything." Payton reopened the book. Pepper linked arms with Mr. Trout and they smiled at each other, happy to be back on track. The doctor flipped open to a page with a portrait of a man. A caption underneath it read 'Doctor Chaney Jr. dedicated his life to the research of werewolves and other strange creatures of the supernatural.' The two anxiously waited as she read through the book, refreshing her memory. Payton continued, "There is a way to cure your friend. You must kill the original werewolf that bit him in the first place, but you must do it before the next full moon. Let me guess, he's actin more like a dog than a blood thirsty monster, right?" The two nodded. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Typical. A werewolf don't become a real werewolf till his first full moon. Then the transformation is complete and there will be no helping him after that. Unless you want to kill'em, which it seems like you don't."

Pepper took in all the information, "So all we have to do is find whoever bit Mr. Pickles, off them, and he'll be good as new!" She shook Mr. Trout's arm, who didn't seem to eager on the idea of killing someone.

Payton laughed, "Woah, Pickle Boy is the werewolf? That's gotta be a riot!" She could just imagine that tall, gangly, man covered in fur on all fours. The idea cracked her up.

Mr. Trout shook his head slowly, "It's not…"

Pepper pointed to the book underneath the laughing woman, "May we borrow that for a bit? Until we cure our friend at least?"

Payton picked it up, wiping a tear away from her eye after all her hysterics, "Knock yourself out. Heaven knows you need it more than I do!" Pepper took t eagerly and the two made their way out of the creepy shop. The hunt was on for the original werewolf.


	6. Chapter 6

Pepper and Mr. Trout went back to the library to get a book on moons and star charting, then headed back to the factory to calculate when the next full moon would rise. They sat at the wooden table, books and notes sprawled around them. Mr. Trout's face fell as he configured the charts, "Oh no…"

"What is it?" Pepper leaned over his shoulder to look at the notes, her feet dangling above the floor as she peeked at the papers.

Mr. Trout was surprised by her sudden advance, but kept his head forward knowing that if he looked at her he'd blush for sure. Feeling her on him was enough to give him chills. He cleared his throat and focused, "The next full moon is in three days, on Friday night!"

Pepper hopped off his shoulder and paced back and forth behind him, trying to clear her head and think. "Then we've got three days to solve this mystery and save Mr. Pickles." She crossed her arms, tapping her chin with one hand. "Well, we better get ready then."

Mr. Trout set down his notes and looked at her with a puzzled expression, "R- Ready for what?"

Pepper scrounged through the piles of junk they had lying about by the desk of useless papers. She found a small, leather, knapsack and placed it on the table. She looked at him like it was obvious, "To go hunting!"

"Hunting?!"

Pepper searched for anything useful they might need while out at night. She picked up a flashlight on the desk and tested it out. It was dim, but it would do. "What? You used to hunt Boxtrolls just fine!" she argued as she packed the flashlight into the bag.

Mr. Trout remembered his days catching Boxtrolls. He was sure that those creatures were much more tame than any werewolf ought to be though. And the thought alone of taking someone's life made him sick. "Yes, but this isn't a sweet little Boxtroll, Miss. It's a blood thirsty monster, and also a person. A person with a life, and possibly a family, and we'd be taking them away from all of that." he paused in his midst of paniced thinking and looked at the lady, who was barely paying attention to him as she packed the bag full of their notes. He sighed, realizing his efforts were futile, "How are we going to go about finding this werewolf anyway? We don't even know how to catch a werewolf!"

"That is where you are wrong my dear Mr. Trout." She picked up the werewolf book off the table and tapped it with her finger, "Everything we need we got right here." She flipped through some pages searching for something useful, "I read a bit of it while you were figuring out the full moon business. Any person in town could be a werewolf and we'd never know it. We have to go at night when they'll be in wolf form."

Mr. Trout felt himself shaking at the mere thought of going out at night while there was a deadly monster about. "B- But if we are out searching for the werewolf, who will watch Mr. Pickles?" he argued, trying to get out of this in any way he could.

Pepper waved her hand toward Mr. Gristle who was feeding his leeches, "Ah, Mr. Gristle can do it. Who better to look after a dog than another dog?" The man heard them talking about him and gave her a sleazy grin and a wink, "Woof." he flirted.

"Ew." Pepper shuddered before returning back to the book. She looked up at Mr. Trout who was a nervous wreck fiddling with his hands, trying to comprehend the whole ridiculous situation. "This- This is all happening so fast. I don't know if any of this is such a good idea." he peeked over to the book where it was open onto a page of the anatomy of a werewolf.

"Mr. Trout, we have to do this. For Mr. Pickles." She then placed a hand on his, "I'll be right beside you the whole time. Trust me, this whole thing will be over before we know it." They exchanged warm smiles and the man suddenly felt a lot better about the whole thing, still very uncertain, but better knowing he had Ms. Pepper by his side. "And don't you dare tell anyone i'm actually willing to help Mr. Pickles. My reputation will be ruined." Mr. Trout laughed at her small joke, but she did not crack so much as a smile, for she was being dead serious.

As the sun set outside, Mr. Pickles burst into the factory, interrupting their tender moment. "Good afternoon everyone! How we doing on dinner, Theodore?" He stepped in proudly with his head held high as if he owned the joint.

Pepper packed her book away quickly, hoping he wouldn't see it. "No dinner from Mr. Trout tonight, Mr. Pickles. You'll have to figure out your own meal."

Mr. Pickles noticed the lady present and slowly moved toward her, "Well, well, well, what have we here?" He leaned on the table, trying to be suave, "You didn't have to come all the way down here to see me, Ms. Pepper. I was just uptown not moments ago." He twirled his mustache flirtatiously at Ms. Pepper.

"HA!" she exclaimed, "You think I want to see you and your disgusting facial hair? I'm here to see Mr. Trout. We got business to attend to." She turned away courtly and went back to her packing.

Mr. Pickles mind started turning as he looked between the two, then at Mr. Trout specifically, "Look at you, Mr. Trout! Didn't think you had it in ya!" He draped an arm proudly around his pal.

Mr. Trout quickly shook his hands in front of him, "No, no, no! It's not like that at all!"

Mr. Pickles winked, "Sure it isn't." He gave him a punch on the arm, and backed away from the table. "I'll leave you two be then, don't want to disturb the lovebirds." He made his way down to the basement bedroom chuckling to himself.

Pepper was disgusted by his whole presence, "You weren't kidding when you said he was greasy…" Mr. Trout simply shrugged; he was used to it already, but still very uncomfortable with the new Monty Pickles. He hoped this werewolf business would be over soon.

The sun set and the moon rose out into the dark evening sky. It was chilly and foggy, but they could still see the streets below their feet. They started downtown, just a couple streets above the factory where they presumed Mr. Pickles was bitten. Pepper pulled out her book to the table of contents and turned to chapter four. She read aloud, "A werewolf, despite the name, is not much like a wolf at all besides its similar physique. While wolves like to stay in packs, werewolves are very lone creatures. Anything they come across that is living they will surely rip to shreds, or at least attempt to."

Mr. Trout gulped and started shaking, "And you still think it's a smart idea to hunt for this thing?" Pepper rolled her eyes for the hundredth time as she shut the book, placed it under her arm, and dug her hand into her knapsack hanging by her side. She pulled out a rusty revolver and spun out the cylinder to show him the bullet inside. "We're safe with this weapon in our hands." she assured him, "Unfortunately we've only got one silver bullet, so if we are going to fire we got to make it count." The man nodded understandingly, hoping he wouldn't have to be the one pulling the trigger when the time came.

They followed the books instructions on where a werewolf might lurk in the dark hours of the night. There was practically no wildlife for the creature to hide in like the book suggested, so they had to figure out other places that fit the description of dark, ominous, and eerie. They searched alleys, garbage cans, underneath bridges, and even the piers by the river, but no clues came up whatsoever. Wandering around all night after having researched all day, they decided to head home and get some well deserved rest. They figured they would better prepare themselves tomorrow before heading out werewolf hunting the next night.

Pepper yawned, "I'll skim through the book some more tomorrow and see if there is anything else useful we can use." Mr. Trout nodded. There wasn't much else to say. After a silent moment, they nodded to each other and groggily parted ways back to their cozy beds for some well needed sleep.

Whilst Pepper and Mr. Trout tried to fix Mr. Pickles problem behind the scenes, there were other things to worry about behind the scenes of Winnie's show. Molly couldn't help but notice how different Mr. Pickles was acting all of a sudden. At first his newfound confidence was delighting as well as sexy. Now it seemed to transform into more of an air of arrogance that floated over his head, wafting a smell that made everyone's heads spin. Monty Pickles was clearly not the same, and Molly wasn't the only one to notice in the cast.

"HAMILTON!" Mr. Pickles shouted, pushing a small comb away from his face. "How many times I gotta tell ya? I brush the mustache _out_ not down!" Everyone shadily listened in as Mr. Pickles had another fit backstage. This wasn't the first time either; all week he had been making a fuss over the simplest things. Whether with the director or the makeup crew, he was turning into a regular diva.

Hamilton didn't take the attitude as easily as some of the other crew members did though, "And how many times I gotta tell you that I am a professional! They didn't put me in charge of hair for no reason, Pickle-Boy! I know what i'm doing! Quite frankly, i've had my mustache longer than you." he fought back.

Mr. Pickles stood up to his full height, towering over the short man. "Yes, but the difference between your mustache and mine is blatantly obvious. I've had this thing for almost a week and it's turned more heads than any length of hair you've grown on your empty head." he picked up the end of Hamilton's beard and held it in his hands like it was a filthy rag.

The barber snatched his hair out of the ungrateful actor's hands and looked like he was ready to let loose like some kind of canon. Fortunately, Trubshaw quickly came to his side to rescue him, "Hamilton, be a dear and come help me with this over here won't you." as he took him by the shoulders and escorted him away he whispered into his ear, "Don't worry about him. Molly's gonna have a talk with him and figure out this whole kerfuffle."

Mr. Pickles fixed his coat as he watched the two turn the corner. He turned to make his way to the stage but almost bumped into Molly who stood right in his way. Rather than blubber out some awkward apology like usual, he simply took his hands, moved her aside, and said rather rudely, "Excuse me." and kept walking.

Molly was shocked and appalled by the action. He had never treated her in any manner like that before. His actions just kept getting worse and worse as rehearsals went on, she wasn't sure how much longer anyone could handle it.. She knew it was her responsibility, in a way, to confront him. After that rude gesture she almost wanted to just yell at him, but she never could. She simply took a deep breath and followed behind him. "Mr. Pickles, can I talk to you for a moment?"

The man turned on his heel and smoothly leaned against the wall with his arm. "Depends what ya got to talk about?" he smiled. Molly usually would feel warm at a gesture like that, but his smile felt so cold and empty to her. She cleared her throat, "You've been acting… Different, lately."

Mr. Pickles smoothed out his coat and fixed his mustache. "Oh, you've noticed?" he twirled it triumphantly.

"Yes, unfortunately. I, and many of the others, think you should possibly tone it down a bit. I think all this stardom has gotten to your head." she explained.

"HA!" he laughed, "The only thing that's getting to anyone is the silly notions you and these other buffoons are concocting up in ya heads!" He stood upright, and played with her hair as he blatantly insulted every one of his coworkers.

Molly smacked his hand away and then balled her hands into fists by her side. "We are not buffoons. We're your colleagues, and we expect you to treat us with respect." she crossed her arms demandingly.

Mr. Pickles face fell. He leaned in close to Molly, much to her discomfort. Quietly, he spoke, "I'll start delivering when you all start doing your jobs right." He could see the chills run through her as he spoke, even if she did try to keep a controlled demeanor. He smirked, stood back up to his full height and started counting people off on his fingers, "Hamilton needs to learn to properly comb a mustache, Winnie needs to learn how to write a script, Fish needs to learn the difference between a bagel and a doughnut, and you need to learn how to say your lines without sounding so acty-schmacty."

Molly's whole body twitched at the last remark. Now he was taking jabs at her personally and she did not stand for that. "Excuse me? I sound acty-schmacty? Last I checked no one says 'I never even knew the man' the way you do on stage!" she mocked his line. Her face was now scrunched up in anger, her hands on her hips, her eyes full of fury.

He was now just as offended as she was. He turned away from her and fixed his scarf proudly, "I learned to act from the best!"

"You learned from me you nitwit!" She stomped her foot as she shouted at him; something she never thought she'd have to do.

Mr. Pickles face fell, thinking it over and realizing she was right. He scoffed it off quickly though. He looked back down at the lady and whispered close to her as he slid an arm around her shoulder, "Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you?" he smiled flirtatiously under his unflattering facial hair.

Molly pushed him off of her quickly. "Get your hands off me you brute! I should hope to never lay eyes upon you or your stupid mustache ever again after this show ends." With that, she marched her way back to the dressing rooms leaving the former man of her dreams alone to roll his eyes and mutter to himself, "Women."


	7. Chapter 7

The next couple of days were spent prepping for the play's opening night. While this whole experience began as a way to bond Molly and Mr. Pickles together, it seemed like it would end with them being further apart than ever before. She wouldn't even speak to him unless they were on stage. Every time she saw him backstage he was attempting to flirt with women or being extremely rude to his cast mates. Molly couldn't understand the sudden change in heart he decided to have, but she couldn't do anything about it except deal with it until the show was over.

The next couple of nights showed little success of their own. Pepper and Trout went out and followed as many tricks in the werewolf book as they could find, but everything just seemed to lead to dead ends. It was Thursday night before they knew it, and they worried they wouldn't find an answer in time to help Mr. Pickles.

Mr. Trout sat on the curb on Milk Street, head in his hands, failure flooding over him. "Thats it then. Mr. Pickles is going to be a werewolf forever, and there is nothing we can do to save him."

Pepper flipped through the book rapidly for help, but even she had to admit it was pretty useless now. She had read through it inside and out; they tried every trick twice at least. There was nothing left to do. She shut the book with a loud thud and threw it across the street in anger.

Mr. Trout peeked through his fingers as the book flew through the air and landed under the blanket of soft fog under the streetlight. "You know that's not yours, right?" he reminded her.

Pepper sighed, "I don't care…" She paused a moment, then dug through her bag, "You know what this means, right?" Mr. Trout looked at her, waiting for an answer. She pulled out the gun and cocked it. "We'll have to kill Mr. Pickles."

Mr. Trout shot up from his seat. "WHAT?! NO! We- We don't have to go to such extremes so quickly do we?" he pleaded.

"There are no options left!"

Realizing the sudden risks, Mr. Trout paced as he tried to think of at least one other way, "M- Maybe there is!" His pacing quickened as he attempted to figure out an idea.

Suddenly a howl rang through the air causing them both to stop in their tracks. Their eyes made contact and they quickly gathered their things to run towards the sound. They ran down Curds Way as they followed the noise. One moment it was coming from the right, the next it was coming from the left. They were practically tripping over themselves trying to catch up with the howls.

Before they knew it, they ended up in front of a familiar house on Guernsey Lane. They both knew who's house it was, but were hesitant to react. Pepper decided to go for it. She took a deep breath and rang the unnecessarily complicated doorbell of the Trubshaw house.

The youngest member of the household, Eggs, answered in his pajamas, although he looked wide awake. "Oh! Hello Ms. Pepper, Mr. Trout! What can I do ya for?" Eggs asked cheerfully.

"Well, uh… We think we heard some howling coming from this house. Is there perhaps a dog around? A big one? Perhaps with big teeth and a thirst for blood?" Pepper asked, failing at trying to keep herself from looking inconspicuous.

Eggs shook his head without hesitation, "Nope! No dog was howling, I was."

Pepper's whole body drooped as he explained. "What?" she spoke in a monotone.

Eggs nodded rather proudly, "Yup. I heard howling happening and I thought it sounded fun so I joined in. Father did too." he turned back to look up the stairs where Trubshaw and Fish waved down to their visitors.

"Ah, company! Come to join in the howling?" Trubshaw asked.

Pepper face palmed herself, annoyed with the disruption in their hunt. "So you're not the werewolf?" she asked, muffled behind her hand. The boy looked confused, but replied, "I'm a boxtroll."

Pepper waved her hands, "Nevermind! Knock the howling off and go to bed! All of you! It's the middle of the night for goodness sakes!" She reached in and closed the door for him.

Mr. Trout waved to them all before the door shut, "Nice to see you all! Have a good night." Pepper looked up at him with annoyance. He quickly dropped his smile and cleared his throat, "Sorry. So what do we do now?"

As if their prayers were answered, they heard a distant howl from the other side of town. Pepper pointed down the street, "Follow that howl!" She picked up her skirt and bolted down the street, Mr. Trout not too far behind her.

They darted from street to street down farther and farther until they ended up in Casein Court. It was the abandoned chunk of Cheesebridge that was run down, where no one lived and only the rats roamed.

Before crossing the threshold of the street. They stopped and waited for another howl to assure they were in the right spot. Neither of them wanted to step foot in that court if they could help it. It was only children's jumprope game legends, but people who entered these buildings never came back out of them. Pepper usually scoffed at these silly notions, but even she had to admit that at night it was rather ominous and spooky.

Nearly a minute passed and nothing had come up. They patiently waited, but it was dead silent. At least five minutes had passed and not a sound. They both sighed in unison. It was almost dawn and their time was fleeting. It seemed another howl was not coming, unfortunately.

The two of them had never been out hunting till the sun rise like that before. They dragged their feet back down to the factory. Both of them were dead tired, especially Mr. Trout. He was ready to get some sleep, even if he slept in a little bit more than usual. Pepper on the other hand, was fighting back the urge to close her eyes. "Come on Mr. Trout, I think now that it's daytime it would be a good idea to go back to Casein Court."

The man was too tired to do any more work. Today was worse than ever with all the literal running around town. He yawned as he sat down at the table, "Perhaps some sleep first?" As he laid down his head on the wood, Pepper dropped the knapsack onto the table with a loud thud, jolting his head up. "There's no time! The full moon is tonight! We have to do this now." He practically ignored her as he laid his head down once again. The lady groaned, "Fine, i'll go by myself." she picked her bag back up off the table and swung it over her shoulder.

Mr. Trout's head shot up at this. "No! I cannot let you go alone to that creepy place, miss." he seemed alert, but his eyes were barely staying open.

"Then come with me." Pepper insisted.

He sighed, he just was not feeling up to any more excitement; he needed to reenergize. "Do we really have to? Can we not sleep for just an hour?" he pleaded.

Pepper sighed, looking at the desperate man before her. He really was tired, it was obvious. She gave a rare, soft smile. "Fine. You sleep Mr. Trout. Get to bed, go to sleep." She helped him up from the table and led him to the top of the stairs that led down to the basement.

Before going down, he gave her a stern look. "You better not go by yourself."

She shook her head, a smile still on her face. "I won't. I promise." They made brief eye contact and he sighed before heading down the stairs to his bedroom. As Pepper made her way out of the factory, she muttered to herself, very pleased with the plan she was concocting in her head, "I'll take Shoe with me!"


	8. Chapter 8

Pepper spent more time than she'd have liked to freshen up. Admittedly, she was tired too. She didn't intend to sleep, but ended up napping for a couple hours on accident. Realizing the time, she quickly got ready and went out to find her favorite Boxtroll pal Shoe.

It was already late afternoon when they finally began to make their way to Casein Court. When they arrived at the threshold of the street, Shoe realized where they were and quickly hid inside their box. Pepper rolled her eyes and pulled out a small cookie from her apron pocket. "Come on, Shoe. Look what I got for you!" They poked out their head and upon seeing the cookie, reached out their hand to snatch it. The lady lifted her hand above her head before they could swipe it away from her. "Nah, ah ah! You get the treat after we go in there." She pointed to the boarded up buildings. Shoe gurgled, sinking back inside their box so that only their eyes were peeking out. The boxtroll looked back and forth from the houses to the cookie in Pepper's hand. With a huff, they emerged slowly and trudged forward, annoyed that they had to work for their prize.

The windows and doors were all boarded up on every home in the court; very few entrances were available to any of the apartments. The only one that was accessible, with an actual working door, was the middle house straight ahead of them. The door was the only normal looking thing about the home though. The windows were still covered up with planks of wood and the bricks were worn and old with moss growing all over, almost encompassing the whole building.

Shoe hid behind Pepper as she tried to open the door, but surprisingly it was locked. She tried again but still no budge. She looked around and moved over to the house next door where a doorway was boarded up with some planks. She began pulling on the center plank. The wood was so old that with only a few pulls form the small woman it cracked right off. She did the same to four more of the planks, leaving only two on top that she couldn't reach. She stepped inside, ducking underneath the top boards with Shoe hesitantly following behind her, holding on to her skirt for safety.

Although it was daylight outside, the inside of the building was very dark. The only thing lighting it was the sunlight beaming in through door where they entered. Pepper dug through her bag for the flashlight and pulled it out as soon as she found it. She flicked it on and shined it around the space.

Dust floated between the flashlight and the spotlight on the other end. It looked like a regular house for the most part. It wasn't even dirty or dusty, it looked rather well-kept in fact. They appeared to be in some kind of living room, standing on a wooden floor with a rug between two chairs and a small table. They slowly walked around the quaint area. She shined the light towards the right, expecting a wall separating the buildings. Instead they found that only half of the wall was standing there. Whoever lived there must have taken it out and extended their home into the other apartments.

Pepper and Shoe walked through to the other side of the room and saw to the left a staircase. To the right was a door, presumably the one they tried entering before that was locked. Pepper cautiously unlocked it and peeked out onto he streets of the court just to make sure her guess was right. After a moment, she closed it and looked up the stairs. Shoe was still hanging on to her skirt from behind. She reached a hand toward the little creature and they took it. Hand in hand they made their way up the stairs.

At the top of the steps, a hallway extended down to the right. There were two doors and a grandfather clock ticking at the end. To the left of where they stood though was another staircase, ascending higher up into the house. Pepper began to go up, but Shoe pulled back a bit in resistance. She gave a small squeeze to their hand in response, and the boxtroll gulped, realizing they had no choice but to go up the stairs with her.

The stairs were narrow, and when it seemed like they were at the top they had found that there even more stairs to the left that lead up to a door. This whole staircase was wooden and didn't seem to match the quaint style of the rest of the house. Pepper could feel herself getting chills; something was hiding up there. She opened the door and it creaked open ominously. She shined her light in before entering. The room appeared to be some kind of attic. It seemed empty, until they stepped in and noticed a few bones lying around on the floor, as well as torn and blood stained white sheets from a bed.

They both gasped in surprised. Shoe was shaking as they escaped into their box. Pepper gulped as she continued shining the light and observing the room. It looked like there was once a window on the right wall, but it was boarded up. Unlike the other windows boarded up on the front of the house, it looked like much more effort was put into patching up this window and making sure nothing came in or went out.

She shined the light slowly around the room some more until she reached the left wall. She gasped as she saw claw marks scratched along the wood. She backed up and tripped over he box friend, dropping her flashlight. The box squealed and little feet emerged. Shoe began to make a run for it but instead of going out the door he bumped into the wall. They stumbled for a moment, dizzy from the hit, and backed up far enough to trip and go tumbling down the stairs.

"Shoe!" Pepper shouted as she stumbled to her feet and shoved her flashlight into her bag. She picked up her skirt as she ran down the stairs to help him. She found him at the very bottom of the attic stairs in the hallway with the grandfather clock, moaning and groaning as they tried to stand up, still only their feet sticking out of their box. Pepper helped them up, but froze as she heard the front door at the bottom of the stairs. She picked up the boxtroll and bolted for one of the doors down the hall.

She entered the first door to the right and shut it quietly, but quickly, behind her. She leaned against it as she listened for a sound. She tried to stay silent but couldn't help her heavy breathing. Someone had entered the house and was walking around downstairs. She looked around the room for an exit, but it was dark. She pulled her flashlight back out and shined it all around as fast she could to look for an exit. It looked like they were in a bedroom, with a bed centered on the wall and a dresser to the left of the door. The only available exit was a window above the bed, but it was sealed shut like the other windows to the house. If she tried to get out through there it would make to much noise and attract the person, not to mention they were on the second floor. It seemed like they were trapped.

Footsteps came up the stairs and without another moment to lose, she dove under the bed, dragging her small friend with her. Shoe poked out their head, not enjoying being carried around. Pepper shushed him before the door opened. All they could see were a pair of boots that entered and walked about. Whoever it was, they knew Pepper and Shoe were in the house and were looking for them.

The woman closed her eyes and prayed as she did her best to keep her breathing as quiet as a mouse. The feet wandered around, but promptly exited the room and closed the door behind them. Pepper waited a moment before emerging, as she heard the feet walk away. She crawled out from under the bed and gestured for Shoe to come with her. They shook their head, to frightened to leave their hiding place now. "We have to get out of here!" she whispered as she grabbed his hand and pulled him out. The poor thing was shaking. Both of them were.

Pepper leaned her ear against the door, but couldn't hear anything. She took a long, deep breath and opened the door slowly. She poked her head out and saw only the dark hallway. She patted her skirt, signaling for Shoe to follow. They tiptoed out, but as she shut the door a man was standing behind it. Shoe jumped inside their box and screamed from within. Pepper screamed out loud and began thrashing her arms wildly to protect herself. "STAY BACK! I MAY BE A LADY BUT I CAN FIGHT BETTER THAN ANY MAN!"

The man gently grabbed her arms and calmed her down, "Woah, slow down there lassy! Ya got little fists off ire, ya do!"

Pepper stopped to get a good look at the man. It was that oddly normal guy she hated named Thane. "Wh- What are you doing here?" she asked. He was the last person she expected to see.

"Well, I live here!" he smiled cheerfully letting her arms go, nervously running his hands though his curly red hair. "I think the better question would be what are _you_ doing here? This is me house after all."

Pepper stepped back and fixed her dress, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Uh, well… It's a long story." she admitted. Shoe gurgled by her feet, and shuffled closer to her, still inside their box.

A loud chime was heard at the end of the hall behind Thane. They all looked to see a tall grandfather clock striking six. Thane, for once, stopped smiling and turned back to the lady. "I do beg your pardon, Ms…"

"Pepper."

He nodded, "Pepper. Yes, Ms. Pepper. I do beg your pardon," he repeated, "but I need you to leave _immediately_." He was trying to be as polite as possible, but was speaking quickly as to get them to vacate.

Pepper was surprised, "You- You're not going to press charges or anything for breaking and entering?"

Thane shook his head, slightly chuckling at the notion. "No, of course not. In fact, if you leave right now we can just forget the whole thing ever happened. Tonight is a full moon and I need you out immediately." Thane gently placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her around, and lead her to the top of the stairs.

She shook herself from his grip and turned to face him. "Why are you so worried about a full moon?" She questioned sharply. The answers began to suddenly unfold before her.

The Irish man was flustered, "Well, just… Because-" his face fell as he realized, "I don't need to explain myself to you. This is _my_ house." He stood above her, giving her a stern glare. Any kindness he had was now swept under the rug. He didn't have time for any of this nonsense.

Pepper wasn't buying any of it though, and easily shot the glare right back at him. "You're acting awfully suspicious, Mr. Thane. Care to explain?" she crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation.

The man had just about had enough of all of this questioning. He slammed his right hand against the wall, making a loud thud, and stared into Pepper's eyes intensly. "Look here, lil lass. If you know what's good for ya, you'll skedaddle out of here right now. Got it?" She was shocked by the gesture and could feel herself shaking a bit once again. Despite it though, she kept her stern face, demanding her answers. Thane sighed, "Trust me. It's for your own good." His eyes were softer now, as if he was pleading at this point. He looked around, noticing the little lighting the house had was fading away. It was almost too late. He quickly bolted past the woman and up the attic stairs.

Pepper ran after him, "Sir, wait-"

He shouted down to her from the top, "THERE IS NO TIME! GET OUT!" He reached for the door knob but froze before he could make contact. It was happening. He could feel himself shifting into his alter ego form.

Pepper backed down the stairs as she heard the man grunting in pain. All she could see was a shadow on the wall of a man morphing into a grotesque beast. She backed up too far once again, and tripped over her friend, falling back onto her butt once again. Shoe was still shaking like a leaf, but he wouldn't move.

A loud howl came from the top of the stairs and Pepper had to cover her ears it was so loud. The shadow sniffed the air and turned the corner. Through the darkness, Pepper could see two glowing yellow eyes looking directly at her. She shakily and slowly pulled out her flashlight and shined it towards the creature. It was large and covered in auburn-brown fur, with claws as big as her face.

The monster barked loudly as it bounded down the stairs towards Pepper. She quickly scavenged her bag for the gun, but she couldn't find it in time. She saw Shoe a couple feet in front of her, and just as the werewolf jumped, she leapt and covered her friend to protect them. The werewolf went right over her and Shoe, sliding across the floor and hitting the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. It chimed loudly as it busted in half and fell over onto the monster. It barked as it tried to untangle itself.

Pepper took her opportunity and picked up the boxtroll as she bolted down the stairs. When she reached the bottom she used on hand to search for the gun once again. She could feel it at the bottom of her bag, but before she could pull i t out the werewolf was at the top of the stairs and chasing after them. She darted to the left towards the living room. The wolf landed swiftly at the bottom of the stairs and leapt forward, just catching the bottom of the lady's skirt in it's claw.

She dropped Shoe as she went down to the ground, sending them rolling a few feet in front of her. The Boxtroll rolled and popped out its head as it watched the beast drag Pepper closer and closer. She tried to grab the floor and pull herself away but it was useless. She was staring into the eyes of the best as it roared in her face. She screamed loudly in fear. Shoe couldn't hide anymore, they cared about Pepper too much. He gave a bold, but shrill, battle cry as they launched themselves towards the werewolf. The wolf looked up at the boxtroll just as they landed on it's head and began pulling at its hair. The werewolf reared up, letting loose Pepper's skirt. She quickly stood up and backed against one of the planked windows as she watched the wolf move past her trying to grab at Shoe. The boxtroll bravely took a bite at the wolf's ear and it howled in pain. It then grabbed shoe by the back of their box and threw them across the room, hitting one of the chairs and knocking it over.

"SHOE!" Pepper shouted, unfortunately getting back the monsters attention. He jumped at her, but she ducked and rolled out of the way just in time for the beast to go crashing through the rickety planks and out onto the streets of Casein Court.

The wolf growled and shook the dust and specs of wood out of it's fur. It was ready to go back for the woman and the troll, but paused and sniffed the air. He looked above to see lights from the top of town. It gave a low snarl and leaped up, scaling the building and landing on the rooftop. It howled loudly toward the full moon before bounding up Cheesebridge for fresh prey.

Pepper caught her breath as she tried to regain composure. She quickly remembered her friend and ran over to the chair where he was tossed aside. "Shoe! Shoe, are you alright?" she asked as she held the small creature in her arms. He was unconscious, but still breathing. "Oh, Shoe…" she felt tears forming in her eyes. She sniffled and held him close as she began to cry. She had never been more scared in her life.

Shoe regained consciousness and moaned in pain Pepper pulled away from them and smiled, happy to see they were alright. "Oh, Shoe," she said again, "you saved my life." The box troll gurgled happily as they smiled weakly. Pepper picked them up and pulled out the gun from her knapsack. She grumbled at it, angry she couldn't have reach it sooner. "Come on, Shoe dear. We got a werewolf to kill."


	9. Chapter 9

Molly was shaking as she sat at her makeup table backstage. She was so nervous she could cry. Not only for the show, but for everything to come afterwards. She still feared greatly for her and Mr. Pickles' relationship. As brutish as he had become she couldn't just halt her feelings for him all at once. She had to admit some love still resided in her heart. Trying to get it all to vanish completely was just impossible, a spark would always be there. And if Mr. Pickles were to miraculously change and be back to his normal self she would not hesitate to forgive him wholeheartedly, as naive as that may be. She still had hope for him.

The lady looked in the mirror in full costume, makeup, and hair. She was in a large burgundy dress made of a satin material with gold trimmings and a small matching hat pinned into her hair. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail undo she did not usual adorn. She looked like Elizabeth, but she didn't feel like her tonight. She didn't feel confident, beautiful, sexy, or brave. She felt cold and heartbroken, and worst of all betrayed. Love had given her another run for her money, and this time it was for good.

She slowly opened the drawer of the vanity table and carefully took out a small pouch she had brought with her from home. She peeked inside and contemplated to herself for a moment.

"Ms. Molly!" Ms. Bonaparte startled her from behind, "It is almost time! Are you ready, dear?"

Molly held the pouch tightly in her hand, hoping the seamstress did not see it. "Uh, yes. Just about!" she didn't look up at the lady, she kept her eyes focused on herself in the mirror with a straight face.

Right away Ms. B knew something was up. "What is in your hand there, darling?" she asked. Molly hesitated, she couldn't lie to Ms. B. No one could, it was part of the dress maker's charm. The blonde sighed and handed it to her. Ms. Bonaparte opened it and with two fingers lifted out by the chain the necklace Mr. Pickles had gotten her before. She sighed, "Oh, child. You know he is no good for you anymore."

Molly sniffled, holding back tears, "I know…" she let out weakly.

Mrs. Bonaparte felt a lot of empathy for her friend. She had been through trials herself, and she knew how tough men could be on such a soft heart. She took the necklace in her hands and put it around Molly's neck. It sat perfectly on her collarbone above the low neckline of her dress. The pink and gold clashed just a teensy bit with the red and gold costume, but Ms. Bonaparte for once did not care about perfection. She placed her hands on Molly's shoulders and looked at her through the mirror. "Perhaps if you wear it, he will remember and have some change of heart, yes?"

Molly sniffled once more, but this time smiled as a tear escaped her eye. Mrs. B handed her a tissue and Molly quickly dabbed away the drop, being sure as not to disturb her makeup. "Thank you." she turned and hugged her supportive friend. The wise woman hugged her back and then released. "Come on then, you have a show to put on." They gave each other encouraging nods and were off to their places.

Molly stood on stage left as she looked out at the audience full of faces she knew and loved, and some others not so much. She took deep breaths as she waited for curtains. Mr. Pickles stepped in beside her, waiting as well. Molly held in a gasp as she stood next to him. She puffed out her chest hoping he'd notice the necklace, but he didn't give her so much as a sideways glance. She decided to try a different approach. "I'm so nervous." she started.

"Don't worry about it." Mr. Pickles began. Molly's hope beamed through a smile. "They'll all be looking at me!" he gloated. Her hope dropped in an instant. What she thought was about to be some encouragement turned into a mere shallow comment. She huffed as she turned on her heel away from him. She couldn't stand the new Pickles, and it killed her.

Promptly at six, the show began. Curtains opened and Hamilton was on stage with Mr. Pickles. They played out their scene and the audience clapped. Hamilton exited left while Pickles exited right. He was alone on stage right while Molly took her place. She did her best not to look at him and stay in character while the curtain opened on her scene. As she performed a monologue on stage, Mr. Pickles' eye twitched. He suddenly found himself not feeling well. He lifted his hand to his forehead as he could feel his head start to spin. He was losing balance, as he realized that something was wrong. He began morphing into his werewolf form, much to everyone else's unknowing.

Molly finished up on stage, "But where, oh where, will I ever find someone like that?" On cue, Mr. Pickles burst out on stage, but he was no longer Mr. Pickles. He was a ferocious beast covered in brunette fur and a torn suit. He had claws and stood on his now hind legs, looking ready to hunt for prey.

The audience gasped at the sight of the monster, ignorantly impressed with the effort put into the costume. Molly gasped with them, unsure how to roll with it. She quickly looked out into the audience to see if the director, sitting in the front row, had anything to say. She could barely see her through the lights, but if her eyes were correct, Winnie was in shock as well.

Molly looked back at the wolf-like creature as it slowly starts up a low growling and stepped towards her. She took steps back in sync with his, "Hehe um… Bartholomew?" she tried staying in character. He began to growl louder, looking about ready to pounce. Molly tried again, to afraid to stay in character anymore, "Monty?" With that, the beast barked and bounded towards her. She screamed and ran off stage left, the creature following behind her.

Everyone backstage watched from the threshold between the curtain and the stage. As they came running back, everyone either stepped out of the way or hid to get away from the monster. As the stage was left empty the audience began to murmur. Winnie grumbled in her seat as everything fell apart before her eyes. Suddenly from one of the doors on stage, Herbert emerged cheerfully. "Why it seems Elizabeth isn't home this evening. Good thing too! I need to meet with her father in private at once!" he sat courtly at the couch in the fake living room, happy to finally have a part in the show. Winnie kept herself under control from her seat as he began to turn her exquisite play into "The Herbert Trubshaw Hour."

Meanwhile Molly was running down stairs to the basement under the stage. She was practically carrying her skirt in her hands as not to trip on it while she ran. She couldn't help but stumble a few times, but she managed to evade Mr. Pickles as he attempted to claw and bite at her. She ran through the crowded basement. As she passed by a tall stack of hat boxes, she knocked them over in front of the wolf's path to give her more time to get away. It didn't do much to help though, he jumped over it with ease and continued to chase her up the stairs to stage right. She ran around curtains and corridors until she found herself trapped by an empty set of stacked tables and chairs. "Oh no…" she muttered to herself.

Mr. Pickles barked, causing her to turn sharply toward him. He growled as he took one step closer to her. "Oh, Monty, please! You know me! Molly! Molly Monte Cristo!" she tried to explain. The monster growled louder, and she raised her arm in front of her face in fear. Suddenly, from a small window near the ceiling backstage, the clouds parted and a light shined in from the moon. The light hit Molly's necklace and gleamed pink and gold. Mr. Pickles stopped in his tracks, going dead silent as he caught sight of the gemstone. The glistening of the necklace sent him whirring back into a memory in his mind. He remembered giving Molly that necklace, he remembered sacrificing his most prized possession for her to have it, and he remembered her gratitude, her appreciation, her smile, as she said, "Oh Monty… It's so lovely." The glistening of the pink stone was reminiscent of the green glistening of her eyes. How could he ever forget that?

Molly lowered her hand and watched him stare. He was in a trance, he was suddenly himself for a second. More himself than he had been all week. Underneath the fur and the claws she could see the man she loved once again. She could see it in his eyes as he remembered how much he loved her.

As the memory sinked in, Mr. Pickles backed away, whimpering in humiliation. He ran away on all fours in fear he would try to hurt Molly again. She went after him, "Mr. Pickles! Wait! I want to help you"

Meanwhile, Pepper was running up Curd's Way carrying an injured Shoe in her left arm, and a loaded gun in her right hand. The boxtroll would gurgle every few moments, their arm in a lot of pain. She would nuzzle them tightly towards her, and assure them that everything would be alright.

As she finally approached the theater, she could see the werewolf Thane lurking on the rooftops of the building, sniffing to find a way in. He managed to find a hatch and rip it open, jumping down inside the building. Pepper gasped and quickly ran around to the alley and through the backstage door.

On stage, Hamilton and Herbert were running the show. "You know I always loved you!" Hamilton shouted, his arms open wide. Herbert threw his arms open and responded loudly, "I was hoping you did!" they then grabbed each other and came in for a passionate kiss. Winnie groaned as her horror tragedy turned into a mushy romance. She could hear Sir Langsdale and Sir Broderick in the seats behind he sniffling and murmuring to one another, "I knew they would get together!"

Mr. Pickles ran past them on stage, every couple of feet looking back at Molly who was running after him. He ran off stage left, Herbert saying, "Oh look, there goes your colleague and your daughter."

Before Molly cold run off stage though, the original werewolf, who was much larger and much more terrifying than Mr. Pickles, jumped down from the ceiling and roared loudly at the lady. She screamed as it raised it's paw to swat her, but before he could, Mr. Pickles leaped onto his back and began biting and brawling for his love's safety. Molly ran over to Herbert and Hamilton as they and the audience watched the fight take place before them. The audience was impressed, the cast and crew were mortified, and Molly was worried Mr. Pickles wouldn't make it out in one piece.

Pepper burst in backstage and carefully handed off Shoe to Ms. Bonaparte who took them in her arms like a baby. The small woman then ran on stage with her gun and shouted, "Stand back everyone!" The audience let out another gasp as this new character entered. Winnie covered her face, unable to watch the rest of her dreams unfold.

It was hard for Pepper to aim with both the wolves fighting each other, one on top, then the other on bottom, throwing each other around and almost hitting the other actors on stage. Thane threw Mr. Pickles down on the ground. He let out a whimper as he was knocked unconscious. Molly reached out as if she could help, but Herbert held her back. Pepper finally got a clear shot of Thane's chest as he lifted his arm to attack. With one swift pull of the trigger she fired the silver bullet right into his heart. The loud bang silenced the theater. Thane froze, then fell to his knees and not his side beside his victim.

Molly quickly ran to Mr. Pickles side, but stopped as he, and Thane, began transforming back into their human selves. Blood was covering the remains of Thane's torn shirt. Pepper hesitantly stepped closer to him and with his last breath he looked at her and muttered, "Thank you." then his head fell and he was still.

Hamilton took one step and gestured to Pepper, "Twas beauty that killed the beast." he lowered his head in respects dramatically.

Pepper rolled her eyes, "Oh shut it." She shoved her gun in her apron pocket as the curtain closed.

The audience was quiet, until Payton and Sybil, the town taxidermist, stood up together and started clapping rapidly, "Bravo! Bravo!" they whooped and holler and whistled. Soon everyone in the audience was standing up to join them. Hamilton and Herbert burst out from behind the curtain and took their bows at least three times while the crowd went wild.

Behind the curtain, Molly held Mr. Pickles head in her lap. A tear rolled down her eye and landed on his face. Her hope was restored for the millionth time, but yet again taken from her as she feared her love was dead. Mr. Pickles nose twitched as the drop landed on his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Ms. Molly from the awkward position. He quickly shot up and off of Molly's lap, embarrassed. "Oh, Ms- Ms. Molly! My apologies."

"Why, Mr. Pickles! Your mustache is gone!" she exclaimed, covering her smile with her hands as he felt his face and sighed at the missing facial hair. He shrugged it off and looked back at the lady who was trying hard to contain herself. "A- Are you alright, Ms. Molly?" he asked with concern.

"I am now, thanks to you! My hero!" she lurched forward and hugged him. He almost fell to his back as she clung to him, pinning his arms down at his side. He looked at Ms. Pepper confused as ever. She shook her head at Molly's shenanigans and looked back at Thane. She was glad all this nonsense was finally over, but wondered how on earth she would deal with this actual dead man on their stage.


	10. Epilogue

Everything seemed to go back to normal in Cheesebridge, for the most part. Although Thane was dead, no one seemed to know him close enough to even notice his disappearance. It had seemed he kept up a nice and normal demeanor to keep everyone from finding out his secret. Luckily Pepper had explained everything to Payton and she helped them take care of it. "Technically it wasn't a 'murder' per se.'" the mortician explained, "It was more of an act of defense. He was attacking people, wasn't he?" Pepper nodded in agreement as they stood in the morgue with a white sheet draped over the dead body on a metal table.

Shoe was not too badly injured, much to everyone's delight. They simply sprained their little boxtroll wrist. One trip to the vet and they were good as new, although they were not delighted to go there in the first place.

Mr. Trout was waken up the next morning after all the commotion by Pepper. He was alarmed that he had slept through the whole thing. "Don't you worry, Mr. Trout. I took care of the whole thing!" Pepper assured him.

"You- You did?" he asked in disbelief.

She nodded proudly, "Of course. You know i'm a lot tougher than I look."

Mr. Trout chuckled. "Well, you do look pretty tough." he joked. She gave him a playful shove on the arm.

Mr. Pickles was completely clueless to most of the events that happened that week. All he really remembered was having a mustache, and he missed it so. When Molly and Mr. Trout tried to explain everything to him, he was completely baffled and didn't believe much of it. It didn't matter if he did or not though, what was important was that he was now back to his normal self.

A week after event took place, Sybil called everyone to her shop for a surprise presentation. Pepper, Mr. Trout, Molly, Mr. Pickles, Herbert, Winnie, Eggs, Fish, Shoe, Payton, and Hamilton all joined to see what she had made. "Behold! My latest creation. I call it 'Ode to Werewolf.'" She tore a patched up sheet off a life-size replica of the Thane werewolf.

The audience gasped at the sight of it. Molly felt a bit faint from the memory of being almost slaughtered by the monster. Mr. Pickles held her as she almost fell to the floor.

"How on earth did you get it so accurate?" Pepper asked, observing the taxidermy project up close. It really was almost exact, and Sybil had not even been nearly as close to Thane as she had been.

Sybil folded up the sheet in her hands and tossed it aside, "I got that photographic memory." she tapped her head, "I just used some bear, wolf, jack rabbit, dog, and voila! We got ourselves a one of a kind, life-size werewolf!" She placed her hands on her hips happy with her project.

Payton clapped her hands, impressed with the creature. Everyone else was rather disturbed, but appreciated the work put into it.

After their small get together, Mr. Pickles escorted Molly back home as he usually did. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of himself being a jerk to everyone in town. He never thought he could be that kind of person. His conscience was to clean and good to even try to act mean to anyone, especially Molly. "I apologize if I did anything… Brutish." he began.

"Oh it's fine, Molly shrugged it off easily, "after all you weren't quite yourself anyway."

Mr. Pickles thought through everything and continued asking questions to help refresh his memory, "So we didn't finish the play?"

Molly giggled at this, remembering how angry Winnie was. Although after the show everyone congratulated her on how great it all went and how impressed they were with the production. "No, not the one we rehearsed anyway." she answered truthfully.

Mr. Pickles cleared his throat, "So I didn't kiss you?" He was sure he would remember something great like that, but then again, he didn't remember a lot of what happened.

Molly stopped at this, thinking about it. She completely forgot they had to kiss on stage. "No…" she coughed, "Unfortunately."

"What?"

"Nothing!" she waved it off as they approached her house. She stepped up onto one of the steps to her front door. "Anyway, I should be off. Goodnight, Mr. Pickles." She gently grab his face and gave him a small peck on the cheek.

He was instantly in a daze, with hearts in his eyes. She was already walking inside her house before he could stutter out, "G- G- Goodnight, Ms. M- Molly!"


End file.
